True As It Can Be - 16. Chapter 16

I got dressed and tried to compose myself. Tuesday has been an insane day of action, but it was the feeling of contentment with Brad that truly shocked me. I don’t want to call what we have “Love”; the word is too big and powerful to describe what I experienced. I felt something new for Brad after he came to my rescue. I wanted him to hold me in his arms. I was excited that he was not seeking sex in return for everything he’s done for me. I want to give him something back for all he has done for me, though. Love may be what he feels, but I can’t give him what I don’t know how to feel. The only thing I know how to do is offer my body to Brad through sex. All I knew of being with a man through my sexual encounters was just opening my mouth wide or spreading my legs. I am ashamed that I can’t be the special guy Brad needs.

I’m a messed-up guy with a lot of baggage. Yes, we both picked poor choices in first lovers. For me, it was Jeremy, who used me to scratch his gay itch in our rural Minnesota home town. For Brad, it was Gary, who’s black hole-like sociopathy attracted Brad’s boundless empathetic nature. In a fantasy world, I can imagine us living happily ever after, but that would be a lie. I can’t be that selfish. The best outcome is that we can stay here at Keller Hall co-habiting throughout the next 4 years, maybe stay together for a couple years after that. Eventually though, he will get his body fixed up and he will leave me for a better option. Even if he doesn’t leave me, I will have to leave him, because I can’t lie to him. I can’t pretend to love him. He deserves to be loved fully.

We had dinner later that evening. Cook made pulled pork with a nice fatty pork shoulder with some kind of buttery gravy. He served corn and string beans in side dishes. We had soft sliced Brioche bread to accompany the meat and an apple pie for dessert. Unlike past dinners, where conversations required an opening by Cook, everyone was freely talking with one another, including Brad.

In the middle of various conversations, Chip grinning as he creates a pulled pork sandwich, directs a question to Cook, “Cook, what are you going to do for Thanksgiving? Brad said we don’t have to move until Friday, so I get to have a real Thanksgiving with everyone. I haven’t had a real thanksgiving, since I was kid and my dad used to just sit in front of a TV watching football games. It was so boring. Last year, Mom and I went to KFC for thanksgiving. We get fried chicken and sides, along with a double chocolate cake. I like their chocolate cakes, it has chocolate chips, powdered sugar, and icing. Are we going to have a lot of sweets?”

A round of laughter descends at the table, Cook answers with a chuckle, “I’m planning on making a Fried Cajun Turducken for Thanksgiving this year. It’s a bit of work to debone the birds and stuff them into each other, but it’s quite a delicacy, especially if it’s deep fried. We’ll have mashed potatoes, yams, corn on the cob, and cornbread stuffing as well as several saltine-based canapes. Don’t worry about dessert, we’ll be doing pecan pie, pumpkin pie, and a Chocolate molten cake.”

The menu makes my mouth water, despite having finished my second helping of pulled pork.

Feeling a need to contribute to the feast, I ask Cook, “Do you need any help Cook?”

Brad joins in, “I want to help out, too. I’ve done some cooking and baking.”

Pretty soon a choir of people offers their assistance to Cook, who smirks, “Well, the more the merrier, it will help build up an appetite.”

We had a very good discussion about the types of appetizers and canapes that we wanted to make for our friends. Paki told us about amagwinya, a deep-fried savory cake filled with curry spices and vegetables. Min wanted to make korokke, the Japanese version of the French Croquettes, deep-fried breaded balls of mash potatoes and meat. Our appetites were growing as we consumed dinner with the amount of planning for Thanksgiving.

As the last slices of apple pie were finished, the conversation turned more serious.

With the gentle silence that a comforting meal brings, Brad addresses everyone without preamble, “Gary will come after everyone, who stays at Keller Hall. We need to prepare. He’s usually really patient and plans things out, but he’s also adept at changing strategy.”

Francis adds, “He also loves to play mind games with people and if he’s going to do something big, he won’t do it alone. He only brought 4 people with him today to face off against Beau and Paki, he’ll probably bring a dozen or more next time.”

Despite the genuine joy during dinner, Min dour expression returns as he asks, “Can we not request assistance from law enforcement? Surely, his actions are illegal.”

Brad glances at me, then replies to Min, “Sadly, the local police have been little help, when it came to Gary Gaston. They grant us legal permits and other normal functions, but they try to be oblivious as to his criminal acts. His family’s large shipping business grants him access to everything: like politicians, unions, news media, and police. An unholy alliance created over generations from a society that stopped caring about the details in their everyday lives.”

Min appears to ponder Brad’s words, then he responds with his own commentary, “It’s not so different in Japan. Large keiretsu groups had controlled vast spheres of influence in our society for decades after World War II. Their influence affected our politics and laws, taking land and forcing smaller businesses to shut down. Even though they were powerful, my grandfather and other small shopkeepers fought them off. They kept them at bay with the assistance of the ninkyō dantai.”

Everyone can tell that Brad is taking in all Min’s information as he replies “How did your grandfather’s generation fight your business interests off? What is ninkyō dantai? I have never heard of that term in my business studies, which included Japan.”

Min contemplates his answer, “We have a term called Kaizen, which is a concept of continuous improvement through working with everyone. Independently no business or group could take on a Keiretsu, but together, they found ways to slow down, stall, and successively take power away from them. As to the ninkyō dantai…” Min hesitates, “That is the name they and their friends call them by, but those in power call them by another name. They are a group formed from those dispossessed at the bottom of society, offering support to those who lack it. They can be violent and cruel, but most hold to honorable conduct. When my parents did not grant me support, they offered it in exchange for services. When Ito and I needed more funds for college, they offered us more money for the videos. They are not good people, but they provide a necessary balance of chaos to a cruel human order.”

An image of a man in a black business suit, tie, and slick black hair materialized in my mind, along with a term that I only vaguely remember from action movies, Yakuza. The Japanese equivalent to the mafia has never been something that I had considered as being a force for good, but I did recall some news story that they sent truck full of supplies and food after the Fukushima tsunami and nuclear disaster. I was only a kid back then and didn’t know who they were. Those supplies were part of a larger local effort to help those afflicted by the disaster.

I am under no illusions that these guys are violent criminals, but hearing Min speak of them with indifference and even a hint of reverence, it made me consider. Law and order were all things everyone is taught from a young age to respect and honor, but what if all those things are being abused by those who do not live by the same standards as everyone else. What if the unspoken truth was that equality and justice did not extend to assholes like Gary Gaston, who could use their money and clout to evade it. Perhaps, the reason why crime continues to exist in society is that there’s a need for the powerless to counter the powerful by living outside the rules of society as the powerful can do.

Paki acknowledges Min, “I understand Min. In South Africa and especially Pretoria, we had similar things. The joke was whether a powerful man or business was bribing the politicians and police. I was not proud to be a thief, not proud that I had to fight and kill in order to survive. Yet, there were few choices. My people say “Umona wasemlungwini ubandeza icitywa ungaliqabi”, which means “They prevent us from getting red clay from the pit, and they do not use it” as an expression against the wealthy and powerful, who hoard and deny opportunities.”

Warren, Francis, and I shook our heads in agreement with our friends’ assessment to the use of extra-legal means and force. Chip seemed oblivious to the veiled discussions, but Mrs. Potter had ushered him back to his room nonetheless after Paki described his own feelings. Cook sat there expressionless and silent throughout the conversation. I knew Min and Paki come from more extreme economic and social backgrounds than some of us, but when dealing with a person like Gary Gaston, preservation must come ahead of any other concern.

As our rounds of conversation ceases and we are about to leave, Cook speaks to us, “Not everything is fair in this world. Not all truths and facts are presented as such. Gary Gaston is a far more dangerous individual than I had originally considered. Mrs. Potter and I have made some precautions as well, but I fear you are correct that it may not be enough, sadly based on the escalation and wanton acts committed. No one should deny you all the use of force in protecting yourselves if under direct attack, but I must advise you all, not to seek out a fight,” his eyes focus on Brad, “You must control yourself and your anger.”

We all dispersed with those final words. Brad had gestured for me to follow him to his room. I knew we had a lot to discuss. When we reached his room, I noticed he seemed a bit more anxious as we sat next to each other on his bed.

Brad sighs, “I should tell you what I was doing today, we promised no secrets between us. You know about the class registration, the contract violation discussion with Mr. Brownlow, and my visit to the library to keep an eye on you, already.”

I nod, “Yes, you also said you had a long-term solution for Gary Gaston’s influence, too.”

Brad grins at me, “Beau, your memory is great. I also contacted my parents and several corporate executive directors. The Gaston family make their money primarily through a series of shipping companies, all held under tightly controlled private Limited Liability Companies. Shipping is a necessary service that is a fundamental resource for everything, so it’s usually unassailable and has deep ties to various interest groups. However recently, there’s been a massive supply chain crunch and shipping companies just can’t move things on backlog fast enough to meet demand. They have also raised prices on all the shipping, causing everything to rise in price throughout the entire worldwide economy as a result, because everyone needs their products. You follow this so far.”

Business isn’t a field I enjoy studying, but I know those facts, “Yeah, I’ve heard that stuff on the news. How does that help get rid of Gary’s power? If anything, it sounds like he’s making more money and creating a monopoly over everything.”

Brad gives me a quick kiss on my forehead, “You would make a decent business analyst. You are completely right, but the recent surge in prices has made people antsy, especially in government and industry. They want a solution to cut out the middle-man in point-to-point shipping. I have a solution to their issue. If someone vertically integrated shipping by decentralizing shippers similar to how Uber is used to share rides or handle takeout orders at nearby restaurants, you would solve the issue. There are 287 million cars in the US, each car on average can carry 165 pounds in the appropriate compartment, so we’re talking about 47.36 billion pounds or 23.8 million tons in potential products shipped, far exceeding existing trucking or train capacities. Since my family produce both oil and gas, we can offer lower cost gasoline as an incentive for companies and shippers that choose to work with us. We would be cutting into their shipping business by empowering individuals and suppliers, the Gaston family and others like them will wane in influence and eventually die out.”

The scope of his plan is big and far-reaching, but a ramification nags at me, “Brad, wouldn’t that replace the Gaston family with your family? Yeah, individuals would now be shipping products they buy and use, but you’re giving them a subsidy with cheaper gas and can control prices just like Gary’s family.”

Brad laces his fingers with mine before speaking, “I’m not proposing this idea to take over the world, Beau. I know electric engines will replace gasoline combustion engines sooner rather than later. When that happens, the artificial power of vertical integration between shipping and gasoline source will go away,” Brad moves closer to me, “I would never be like Gary, because I love you Beau. I don’t know if you understand how much. I want to do all of this, so you will be happy and safe.”

Learning about the extent Brad would go for my happiness, I felt so undeserving. I wanted to tell him I loved him back, but I knew that would be a lie. All my thoughts from earlier and how I reacted to him in my room, came flooding back.

Calmly, I reply, “Brad, I want you to be happy, too. You deserve someone better than me. You deserve someone who can reciprocate your feelings back without baggage. All I can give you is this,” I wave my arms up and down my body; ”Sex is easy and it’s what I expected. It’s not enough, though. I can’t even bring myself to say the “L” word around you, if you haven’t noticed. Between Jeremy using me and my parents kicking me out, I don’t think I can be what you need.”

Brad cup my chin with his free hand, “I’m not a great catch, either. Between the face, the scars, and the mood swings, most guys would run off screaming. You actually come to me. I don’t need anything from you. I’m willing to wait for you. I know you care about me, too.”

I scowl at Brad, “I can’t just do nothing, Brad. I can’t just cuddle with you and…”

Brad pulled my face into his own. We kissed and embraced, unlike any other time before. His tongue surged forward into my mouth, while my tongue was forced into his mouth in response to the suction he was generating. I’ve kissed guys before. Sadly, those kisses, unlike my imaginations of what kissing is supposed to be, were just brief exchanges of sensation, like two strangers passing each other in the night. Jeremy would place his tongue into my mouth, but he never allowed me to enter his mouth. If my tongue did venture into his mouth, he’d kick me out of his shed with a barrage of homophobic expletives.

However, with Brad, it was completely different and part of me recognizes that it was exactly what kissing should be between people in relationships. He was using his mouth and lungs to produce suction in and out. We engaged in several forays of our tongues into each other’s mouths, tasting and exploring the various crevices formed by teeth, muscle, and bone in Brad’s case. Feeling portion of his exposed jaw within his mouth, I realized Gary or one of his accomplices must have cleaved into it. A wave of sadness flowed through me as my tongue gingerly caressed the area, trying to offer comfort. Brad’s tongue gently touches mine throughout this time, assuring and encouraging me.

At some point, the blood in my head began to rush. There was not enough air as the suction from his mouth had held my attention for several minutes and my nostrils were offline as his lungs were working for both of us. As stars appeared in my eyes, I pulled away quickly from Brad gasping and heaving, while my anatomically disproportionate dick was dying for release from my jeans.

I glare at Brad, who gives me a cocky and endearing smile, I blurt out, “You bastard, what was that?”

Brad pats my head, “I like that fire from you Beau, it’s hot,” he stares at me with realization dawning, “It’s a kiss Beau, have you never been kissed before?”

I hesitate to admit the shameful truth, but swallow my pride and offer this to him, “I’ve never been kissed like that. You’re my first.”

Brad holds me closer to him, “Want me to be your second and third as well? That’s what you can give me in return, it would make us both happy.”

My dick is screaming at me right now and I can tell he’s hard as a rock as well, “Let’s do it naked this time, lying down, okay.”

Brad nods and proceeds to close his door and makes a hand gesture to a corner of the room. It seemed strange as there was nothing over there, except a few book shelves and personal items. Then a memory floated into my mind, I remembered Cook said that he would be watching Brad. Thoughts of Brad masturbating me, while I was fully clothed brought a fresh wave of embarrassment. My dick starts to deflate.

Brad notices I had stopped undressing, “What’s wrong Beau? Do you want to do something else?”

I shake my head, “I just realized Cook saw what we did on Sunday. Sorry, I should have considered that earlier. I’m a neurotic mess.”

Brad snorts, “I gestured for him to turn off the cameras. Earlier, I also asked him to delete the footage of you and me in bed together on Sunday. He deletes non-relevant videos all the time. He’s a professional and he’s gay, what we do is pretty vanilla compared to some of his clients.”

I acknowledge Brad’s words and consider my fears, “I just don’t like being seen by other people, I don’t like being judged by them. I’ve dealt with a lot of that in my life.”

In response, Brad quickly strips out of his clothes, revealing his entire naked body to me. I’ve seen his golden blond chest hair and happy trail before, but in a fully lit room, I can see the obvious scars that line his body. His genitals and penis were unscathed luckily, but the area around his inner thigh and buttocks showed several dark bruises. Lining his arms and legs were strange looking injuries, they looked like burns similar to the ones suffered by Warren, but they were localized and there’s an outward “O” shape to them with the darkest mark near the center. My mind conjured up a scene of Gary Gaston torturing Brad with a blow torch. These sights on his body made me want to return the favor to Gary ten-fold and chop off his nuts to feed dogs, like Sansa Stark did to Ramsay Bolton in the TV show version of Game of Thrones. The bastard had it coming for what he did to her and so does Gary for everything he’s done. Maybe, Cook should have been addressing his final words of keeping anger in check to me instead of Brad.

Seeing my intense expression of anguish and sadness concerning him, Brad speaks to me, “Judge not, unless you want to be judged, right. If you want to give me something, give me all that fear, so we can figure it out together.”

With those words, the tension created from my neurotic fears dissipated. In exchange, the heat of arousal began to rise in my groin and my semi-hard dick had risen again to full mast.

Brad approached me and helped to remove my clothes, until I too was naked. We wrapped our naked bodies underneath Brad’s comforters. We made out more than a dozen times that night. We rubbed our cocks together until we reached orgasm half as many times. I really hope this sharing of fears is what Brad really wants, because I think I can share this part of me with him every night of our lives if he wants it.